


the dead's memories of love

by SylveonDreams



Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Night Terrors, Watching Someone Sleep, something i wrote in way too long for something so short, well it isn't really but yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylveonDreams/pseuds/SylveonDreams
Summary: Wilford doesn't sleep easy, but at least he's not awake. And Dark? Dark can't help but watch him sleep.





	the dead's memories of love

He should be used to it by now. The presence of a familiar body next to him in bed, snoring lightly and sleeping ~~almost~~ peacefully, one hand on the pillow between them as if he expects a hand to hold as the two of them sleep. It’s been years, after all. Years they’ve slept together, skirting around what exactly ties them together.

But night after night Dark lies awake, watching the rare peace on Wilford’s face and thinking.

It’s a thing of convenience, really. They both have nightmares, and Wil finds something familiarly comforting about Dark – something he’s never been able to place, something Dark should have told him long ago. And besides, who else is there? After all, when your head’s spinning from hallucinations of concentric circles stretching off into infinity, the only thing to do is turn to the only other person you can mostly trust.

There are traces of it inside Dark sometimes, the love that had drawn the humans he had once been to Wil. When he’s watching Wil sleep, when Wil shows up in Dark’s office, a grin plastered across his face and blood splattered all over his shirt, even sometimes when Dark’s pinning Wil to the wall with any number of different intentions. Something dead will stir within him and he can’t help but smile at the madman with a pink moustache. He’d never tell Wilford about those memories of love. He didn’t deserve the explanation that would come with it. He didn’t deserve to know that his friends were dead within Dark, living only in memories and the occasional emotion rearing its head.

Dark shifts, putting his hand in Wil’s and squeezing lightly, tasting the memories that always come with that simple action. They’re bittersweet; the dead’s memories of love.

Wilford mutters something, the nonsensical chatter of a dreamer speaking aloud. His eyes flick around under his eyelids, and he sighs heavily. Dark turns onto his back, leaving his hand in Wil’s on the pillow, and his body takes a moment to make the painful shift into the new position. He allows his eyes to close, the bleached-out memories playing through his head.

As soon as Dark begins to drift into the realm of sleep, though, he’s jolted awake once more by a shout and a sudden movement.  Wilford’s shot up, his eyes staring blank and panicky into the night, his hand reaching to where his breast pocket would be if he was wearing a shirt. Just like he does every other time this happens, Dark stretches his arm out to brush Wil’s lower back, his fingers grazing over the scars littering Wil’s skin. His eyes closing again, Wilford lies back down, his hand falling back to the pillow between them. He’s been asleep the whole time, of course, and a touch is almost always sufficient to break him out of the dream terror. It’s not that Dark cares. He doesn’t. It’s just impossible to sleep when the person next to you reaches for his gun in a dream.

A couple of minutes later, because it wouldn’t be right if he didn’t, Dark has to reach over and tuck Wilford back into bed. Wil mumbles something, squeezing Dark’s hand where it’s come back to rest in his again, and smiles a rascally grin Dark knows full well means mischief when Wil’s awake.

There’s a conspiratorial smile spreading across Dark’s face when he lies back down, and he traces his thumb over Wilford’s. And as he closes his eyes to go back to sleep, Dark whispers, _“Good night, my dear William.”_

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be something longer, I think. But nope, this is it. We'll see, maybe later. No promises. Hit me up on Tumblr if you _do_ want something longer.
> 
> [read/reblog on tumblr](http://sylveondreams.tumblr.com/post/170210172938/)


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